Never
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: "James thinks he's in love with Logan Mitchell." M for the Hardcore Jamesangst, one-sided James/Logan


_**For those of you who tend to skip A/Ns: **In my opinion, this might kind of be the darkest thing I've written in a while, but only at the end. Or maybe before that I have no idea. POINT IS that if you're not totally sadistic then I don't know if you should be reading this. I promised Hardcore Jamesangst, so that's what we have here. JUST WARNING YOU. **That is all.**_

_History lesson! A certain soul mate of mine told me that James' weakness is cheese. It's like kryptonite to him. Just kidding not really. But apparently he can't actually eat it because he tends to cough it back up all boody SO just know that. Random facts. Completely. Random. _

_THIS has been written over a... four month period. Its due date was Christmas of 2010. Yeah, don't act surprised. It's for my Soul Matest Soul Mate beat of my heart blahdedahdeda SOUL MATE ONE MAN WRITING GAMES. Seriously she is my soul. MY SOUL. And I told her that her Christmas present was gonna be Hardcore Jamesangst. So here we have... Hardcore Jamesangst! My favorite scene is actually the beginning. Try to guess which one lol. I suffered SEVERE Writer's Block in the middle of this, which was what caused its delay, and only just recently got over that. And the last few scenes were written while listening to every single one of my Big Time Rush songs ever over and over again so I don't know what, but the point here is that I LOVE YOU ALEX I LOVE YOU THANKS FOR SKIPPING THIS PARAGRAPH SO YOU COULD READ THE STORY ALREADY LMAO. I LOVE YOU SO HARD._

* * *

James hasn't always been like this.

When he was little, he was different, physically- he wasn't conscious of his look, his appearance, his weight. He was just like any other elementary school child: fun-loving and carefree. That's why he never paid any attention to what or how much he ate, and he was pretty much convinced that pizza and chocolate were the two best things in the world.

It's coincidence that cheese was abolished from his diet during the years of highschool, because that was right around the time he began rapidly losing weight and started to become the famous "Face." His friends were immensely proud of him, as they too had fallen unsuspectingly into the belief that it was a combination of the sudden absence of cheese and moderation that drove him to this, but James knows otherwise.

There is a boy. A beautiful, stunning boy. He is exactly everything James wants, and James certainly looks up to him more than anything. Of course he himself has gained so much in the years of his transformation- looks, popularity, maybe even admiration, but it's all been for one person, and one person only: Logan Mitchell.

James thinks he's in love with Logan Mitchell.

No, scratch that, he _knows_ he's in love with Logan Mitchell.

See, he and Logan and Kendall and Carlos all make up an unbreakable team, but within that friendship are separate, varying relationships, and James considers his relationship with Logan the most abstract, compared with the others. Of course he's close to him, close like a brother, but he met Logan last out of all his friends. He was also the first to meet him.

He remembers that day like a clear, sharp ray of sunshine penetrating his mind forcefully. It was back in Minnesota, when they were all in their freshman year of highschool. Theirs was a small town, so there was only one middle school which three elementary schools combined to form. So really, James had no idea why they hadn't seen Logan around before. Maybe because by the time highschool hit, Logan was only just reaching puberty. He was a small kid, and the first time they met was in gym.

James hadn't wanted to take gym, but his grades were down and he wasn't allowed on the hockey team until that was fixed. It was grudgingly that he walked into the locker room that day. It was grudgingly that he looked around at all the other boys, how he saw _that one,_ that scrawny little one, and what was he supposed to be, five?

He was paired up with that boy when they started their first sport, lacrosse.

What had surprised James was how coordinated the scrawny little boy actually was. While James struggled to catch the balls that flew more than a foot off the ground, that boy caught every single one with ease. Of course, it made James hate him and just P.E. in general even more- in hockey, he was second best to Kendall, when he wanted to be. None of his other friends thought so, but that was because he didn't actually _try _most of the time. He did when it really mattered, like in championship games or when Kendall was simply getting fed up with losing, but a lot of the time he couldn't find much motivation to get over there when there were already like five players over there.

Of course, that was just the very beginning of freshman year. By the time Logan was with them and on the team, he'd started trying harder.

But that didn't matter yet.

What mattered was that one day, when they were practicing for lacrosse, James had gotten fed up with being so bad at the sport and started getting competitive with Logan. Logan played along with it, and their throws started getting harder and a lot more challenging. Of course, infuriatingly, Logan caught every single one, no matter how off target James threw it (if they threw it too far off, they would have to run one lap around the track, so it couldn't get too crazy). Anyway, it was starting to get a little out of hand, what with James' growing frustration and the overall forcefulness of the game, and the whole time Logan was just _smiling_. At one point their competition reached a climatic point. Logan threw the ball to James, and James missed. The flying object sped on until its path was solidly obstructed by the back of someone's head.

That someone was David Morgan, extremely strong build for a fourteen-year-old, notorious for his short, violent temper. Logan seemed to shrink in a matter of seconds, his eyes widening fearfully as David rounded on him, towering a full foot over Logan. The small boy began tripping over frantic apologies, but David wasn't going to have it, and while James would have _loved_ to see Logan get pummeled into the earth right at that moment, the boy just looked too helpless and defenseless for James to be comfortable with that. So he intervened and stopped something that could have possibly gotten ugly. And yeah, maybe James kind of did feel good about the way Logan looked at him after that, but he told himself it was just the satisfaction of standing up to someone like David on his own. Whatever it was, James couldn't get Logan to get back into the game after that, and all Logan would do was halfheartedly toss the ball to James, still catching it every time but completely devoid of any sort of life.

It bothered James, and he looked into it. He didn't want to get involved in Logan in any way, of course, but as plans inevitably will turn out, it didn't work out that way. Perhaps it was fate that when the teacher finally put them in teams, he and Logan were grouped together. James found himself trying to cheer Logan up more and more every day, because since that incident he'd retreated into some sort of personal shell that apparently no one else was allowed into. Nothing was working, and James had no idea why that was so unsettling.

Then one day, something happened.

James was late leaving school. He'd left his History book in one of his classes, but he had no idea which, so he had to go to every single one, and it seemed that none of them had that wretched book. He was on his way to his fifth period when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind the building he was passing. It was faint and he couldn't make out the words, but he recognized the tones, and it was definitely Logan.

Curious, he detoured and rounded the building, heading for his voice to see what it was; Logan didn't talk much, and when he did, it wasn't loud like it had been just then. A panicked thought of, "What if something's wrong?" came across, and he slowed a little, stopping just at the corner and peering around.

It was Logan, and three other guys. They were close to the football field, where the team was having practice, and these guys were _monsters_. They made Logan look like a fifth grader. He was cowering. The older boys were obviously ganging up on him, and when one of them took the first blow, a sharp land to the back, James could hear the clap all the way from where he was. Logan collapsed to the ground, and he didn't even try to get up. He simply curled into a ball and covered his head, and by that time James was already running. He didn't care that the football players were at least Junior or even Senior year, he just knew that Logan was already fragile enough and didn't need someone around to break him. It was a really _stupid_ move on James' part, because when he slammed into the nearest bully, all it did was push him off balance, making him stumble forward and trip over Logan's resigned form. The older boy fell to the ground, all three of them looked to him, glaring, and James knew there was nothing he could do.

He had hurt himself before; fallen from trees he'd climbed with Carlos, broken his wrist in an intense hockey match, lost his footing and bruised his elbow- tons and tons of things. He knew pain. He just had never, ever hurt himself repeatedly in the same spot.

It hurt, coming relentlessly from three different places: his arms, from where one was gripping him tightly, holding him for the other two. His stomach, which recoiled from every single punch thrown to it. His face, which had also taken a few blows. He knew there would be a black eye there tomorrow. There was so much hurt in so many places, and with one final fist to the stomach James coughed horribly, retched, and violently threw up everything he had in his stomach. The jock holding him dropped him immediately in disgust and the impact of the ground meeting him took everything left in James out of him. A sharp, putrid smell reached him, but he didn't even notice. He was coughing thickly, lying in his own sick, and the second the thought hit he did it again. A few more kicks were landed to his sides, stealing his breath again, and then they were gone. He had no idea where they'd gone, just that they had. But he couldn't really concentrate on that; all he could focus on was getting air through his mouth and into his lungs, to breathe in and out smoothly. He was shaking uncontrollably, and suddenly it seemed way too cold. He curled into himself, moaning weakly and feeling a shudder rip up his spine. He coughed again, and this time there was blood. He took ragged, shuddering breaths, thinking that nothing in the world could be worse than this.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He flinched at the contact, his mind immediately dropping in dread, but then there was a soft, broken voice.

"_James?"_

His breath was rattling, as if there were something being battered up and down his throat with every breath but never freed, trapped eternally to make his breathing sound empty and laborious- exactly what it felt like. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he couldn't do anything. He couldn't acknowledge Logan, he just couldn't. He lay there, breathing, hurting. It was _excruciating._

James blinked slowly and suddenly Logan was in front of him, eyes pained and scared. He was splattered with James' sick, but James forgot how he was supposed to react to that. He couldn't think clearly.

"_J-James, I'm gonna call for help, alright? Everything's going to be okay. Just breathe."_ His voice sounded weird to James, and he saw something wet like crystal raindrops falling down his cheeks. Logan was shaking. Logan pulled out a calculator- or at least James thought it was a calculator. Everything was fuzzy.

He felt a shaky touch to his cheek, and opened his eyes that he'd never realized he'd closed to see Logan brushing at his cheeks. He realized he must be crying, because Logan was wiping away tears. It connected; Logan was crying, too. James hazily thought that Logan shouldn't be crying, but the rapid-fire words he was speaking into his calculator- wait, _cell phone-_ sure didn't sound like crying. Maybe he was okay. He should be; James had been the one beaten up, not him. If Logan wasn't fine, it had all been for nothing. Logan had to be fine...

"_...mes, you have to stay awake, alright? Don't go to sleep."_

James was really too tired to figure out what that meant. All he knew was that he was hurting and he was tired and two plus two was "if you go to sleep you won't feel the hurt anymore." And he was ready to write that answer down.

"_J-James, you can't, y-you just c-can't sleep, al-alright? S-stay awake f-for me, kay?"_

He... for who? Who was "me?" James didn't want to stay awake for a complete stranger, he didn't want to hurt for someone he didn't know. "Me" didn't know that he was hurting this much, "me" didn't know what he was going through. And if "me" did know, surely he would understand and let him sleep. So James decided to let go...

"_James... What you did, that was amazing. No one's ever done that for me before. No one's ever done anything for me before."_

"_When I was little, stuff like that happened all the time- getting beat up, I mean. It happens all the time, so it was just gonna be another day, you know? But then you came along, and..."_

"_Playing lacrosse with you has been really fun, actually. Usually I get paired up with someone different, or someone who hates me. You're different. You make me feel wanted."_

"_I've noticed you trying to cheer me up the past week, too. No one's ever tried to do that before. No one's ever cared. It's... really sweet of you, James."_

"_You didn't have to do it, you know. You... you wouldn't be like this if you hadn't. I'm sorry. You shouldn't be like this. But it's gonna turn out alright, okay? Just don't forget that."_

"_Okay, James, the paramedics are here. I can hear them. They're almost here. It's gonna be fine, alright? You're gonna be fine. Just... Don't die, James. Please. I just met you, and we don't even know each other, and you did this for me, and it's just- Don't die. You're too incredible a person for that."_

"_Hang on, James. It's all going to be alright. You'll be fine. Please."_

...

James found out that Logan wanted to be a doctor. He found out a lot about Logan, actually. He discovered that Logan was the smartest person he had ever met, as well as the sweetest. Well, maybe besides Carlos, it was hard to tell. He found that Logan had a lot of passion. He learned that underneath the outer shell of shyness and quiet, background demeanor there was an intriguing person- no, _enthralling._ Logan knew a lot of big words.

Kendall had noticed these things too, or at least the ones most important to drag him into the world of hockey, which he accepted. He wasn't one for trying new things all of the time, but after much poking and prodding and forcing from Kendall, he found he loved it, and he was extremely coordinated, which, surprisingly, made up for his size. Having him on the team was bringing James a lot closer to him, so he had absolutely nothing to complain about.

James also found that he really, _really _liked Logan.

So much that he burned inside whenever someone else stole his attention, like when Kendall was the first to praise Logan instead of James, or when Carlos got into some sort of crazy animated "conversation" (as they preferred to call it) with him and he seemed to forget _all_ about James.

James did not like to share Logan. James _hated_ it when anyone else stole Logan away from him. So he tried harder.

He pulled crazy stunts, most of them with Carlos to cover. Which was probably what brought out Carlos' insane nature and encouraged the reckless activity, if he thought about it. He and Carlos grew closer as friends because of that, and he almost felt guilty because he hadn't done it for Carlos. He'd done it for himself, to get Logan. He deserved it, didn't he? After all, he'd met Logan first. He'd gotten hurt for Logan. He'd fractured a rib, bruised his stomach, gotten a concussion and suffered from internal bleeding for him. The least he could get in return was all of Logan's attention, wasn't it?

Well, the Crazy Stunts With Carlos did get something out of Logan, but it wasn't enough. Luckily for him, something else came up.

The school's hockey season was coming up, and it was then that Logan found out that James had no way of playing if he didn't get his grades back up. Much to James' delight, Logan offered to help with tutoring; this meant that not only would James be able to play on the team with the rest of his friends, but a lot more one-on-one James and Logan time would ensue, and that filled him with childish anticipation, almost like when a boy was able to spend a whole day with just him and his dad, but somehow this was just so much better.

His main struggle was with math. Algebra in particular. The thing that stumped him was the random appearance of the letters. Why were there letters in math? Math was supposed to be numbers. Adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing. There was really nothing else that needed to be learned. It was simple. So why did the equations suddenly look like y = mx + b? What did that even mean? James saw it like the world hated him and decided to combine his two least favorite subjects by letting math and English get married. He wished he had known it was happening at the time so he could've come and crashed it all. Then he could play hockey for as long as he wanted.

Logan was the key, the opener to the lock James just couldn't get past no matter how hard he tried. He was a bright, shining angel in James' life- he knew _everything._ It was amazing. Who knew that _m_ was supposed to mean 'slope?' If they'd wanted that to be clear, shouldn't they have represented slope with _s_? Simple, really. Same with _b_. Y intercept? Crackheads, these mathematicians all were. They all got together and sat in a pot circle and smoked weed all night long and Paul decided to name himself Pythagorus so his Pythagorean Theorem could have a cool name, and same with all the other guys, and that's why equations and factoring existed.

"_James, that's not what happened."_

"_Yes it is."_

"_Focus."_

And while it was incredibly frustrating, James cherished every single moment he had alone with Logan, because never once was his attention stolen away from him, not to make sure Carlos wasn't running into the street, not to talk to Kendall about hockey or some girl or the morality of a prank or _whatever. _These study sessions were devoted completely and totally to James and James alone, and he wouldn't have traded them for anything.

One test in particular set all of James' nerves on end, put a ridiculous amount of stress on James, and, most importantly, gave Logan this extreme determination that set his eyes on fire and his army-drill tutoring skills on the highest level. It was like- if James didn't pass this test, scoring at least a B minus, he wouldn't be able to play on the hockey team until second semester, and first semester was when all the championships were. James couldn't miss out on championships- they had discovered that all four of them had to be out on the ice, working together, that if even one of them was absent, they would lose the game. Sure, every one of the other players were good, but everyone knew that Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan were the fire of the team. With them, it was a sure victory. So James simply could not miss out on this season, for not only would he suffer, but everyone else as well. Not to mention that Kendall probably wouldn't talk to him for a week or longer. Probably longer.

Point: they all knew that James _had_ to pass this test. And Logan was willing to go to any length to make sure that happened.

Even if it meant staying up literally all night long studying.

James choked on his own spit, coughing maybe a bit melodramatically at the prospect. _"Logan, you can't be serious."_

"_I'm dead serious. We are doing whatever it takes for you to ace that test."_

"_I don't have to __**ace**__ it, Logan. At least a B minus- that's all it takes."_

"_And who says we can't shoot for higher?"_

Of course, Logan knew James would try to pull things on him, so he made sure he had foolproof plans to blockade him; when James decided he couldn't take it any longer and was ready to resort to sleeping in the bathroom, Logan set a timer for three minutes and said if he wasn't back by the time it went off, he'd come and drag him out himself. James had weighed the prospect of sleeping even for three glorious minutes against being rudely awakened by a determined Logan, quickly deciding that he'd prefer to keep himself out of the way of the smaller boy's wrath. Not that he was that much smaller anymore; besides slowly building up by means of training for the hockey team, he'd just started to get past brushing up on puberty and was going through some pretty wacky voice changes- James kind of liked it when his voice would crack randomly in the middle of sentences, and then the way he'd turn bright red and try to pass it off with a 'never mind.'

Anyway, multiple plans of James' were thwarted by Logan's cursed devious brain. When he tried to say he heard something outside with full intent of running to Kendall's house and begging him to let him sleep there and not let Logan in under any circumstances, Logan simply told him that whatever was outside was outside and they were inside, so it couldn't get to them. When James stubbornly pushed on in favor of checking it out, Logan invited himself along, and James had a brief internal debate as to whether it would be better to make a run for it the second they got outside or to just resign. He decided to resign, quite grudgingly.

He didn't give up, though. He tried multiple times to escape Logan's Torture Study Session, but all were to no avail. They got weaker and less elaborate as time wore on, too. Twelve thirty was when he tried the bathroom thing. At twelve forty-seven he tried the noises from outside. One fifteen he said it was hot even though it was freezing and went to open the window, planning on climbing out and down the tree to make a run for Kendall's house like before. Logan held onto the back of his shirt. Obviously he could read minds. At one fifty-five he knew he was starting to lose it. He really did have to go to the bathroom this time, but Logan went with the timer again, and James was afraid he would fall asleep leaning against the wall or something. He could always blame it on number two, though. He grinned and chuckled at the thought. When the sound reached his ears he heard drunken laughter, and oh yeah- he was losing it. And Logan knew he was losing it, because he was giving him these looks that just made James laugh even more. Two twenty-three James stopped being able to answer Logan's questions. He decided that the square root of two hundred twenty-five was pie.

"_B-but not the kind you math, it hazza be the one you eat."_

"_The answer is fifteen."_

"_Logan, couldya make me some pie?"_

Logan didn't make James pie. In fact, James wasn't sure Logan had heard him right, because the next five questions were about pi- the math kind. By two forty James couldn't even comprehend Logan's questions anymore. And if he'd been a little more coherent at the time, he could have sworn Logan was getting tired, too- but that was against the law, Logan couldn't be getting _tired. _It wasn't like people who tortured other people ever felt exhausted or agonized. So it just couldn't be that Logan was getting tired, so James decided that Logan was probably making fun of him or something. Or something. Or... something.

God, he was tired.

"_Uh... is it... sixty-four?"_

"_No... but that's like... That's like how old we'll be in like... fifty years!"_

"_Logan, I... I really gotta... I'm so thirsty, Logan."_

"_Well good for you. I... Yanno what, I got some water __**right here**__ for ya. On the house!"_

"_Uuuuugh! Bottled water- a travesty! Logan, do you even know what this means?"_

"_Uhhhh... I'm smart?"_

"_No! I'm allergic to bottled water, Logan! I never told you?"_

"_You are __**not**__-"_

"_I am! Logan, look, I'm swelling up already! My nose is getting itchy! I'm gonna sneeze!"_

"_Here's a tissue. Brought somma those, too. Incase you were allergic to water bottles or something. Tissues are the only cure."_

"_Not for me! I'm wonova kind! Keh! You see that! A cough! Keh keh! Logan, you're killing me!"_

"_Oh no- what have I done?"_

"_Keh- Only- keh- cure- keh- is sleep- keh keh!"_

"_Not only is my best friend allergic to water bottles, but he's coughing funny, too! That's not any normal cough! That's the cough of someone who can only be cured by one thing- I read about this in an old textbook, and I know __**exactly**__ what you need, the only thing that can cure a case as intense as this!"_

"_Sleep!"_

"_No! Studying! It's the only way, James!"_

"_Nooo! Logan- you don't understand! That'll only worsen the condition! I don't- keh keh keh- think my condition has ever- keh keh- been seen before! Keh keh keh keh keh!"_

"_Suspicious, isn't it?"_

"_Keh!"_

"_There's only one way out of this!"_

"_Sleep!"_

"_Square root of three hundred forty-three, James! What is it?"_

"_Agh! No! Getting- weaker- keh!"_

"_No! James! Stay with me, buddy, come on! Three forty-three! Three forty-three!"_

"_I can't! I'm- agh- I'm dyiiing!"_

"_James, no! The floor is the enemy! Laying down will only make it worse!"_

"_I feel... better already..."_

"_James, no! You can't!"_

"_Too... late... Good... night... Logan..."_

"_Stay with me! Wait- I found another cure! Glory hallelujah- praise the Lord!"_

James' high-pitched scream must have been heard all across the neighborhood- and it very well should have. What right did Logan have to dump the contents of the water bottle all over him? Who said he could do that? James was _mad_ and wanted the rest of the world to know. Despite his explosion to Logan after, however, nothing was changed because that water had been _cold_ and he was awake- shivering, yes, but _awake_. When he stated that he was freezing cold and needed to bundle up in bed, Logan went into his backpack and brought out a second jacket, handing it to James and immediately getting back onto the square root of three hundred forty-three. The worst part was that James couldn't find it in himself to complain any longer because, well, he was wearing Logan's jacket, and at that moment life couldn't have gotten any better. He blamed it on the terrifying sleep deprivation.

By the time three twenty-five rolled around, James was just about gone.

"_Logan... I'm hungry."_

"_Foil, James. It's not so hard."_

"_So, so hungry."_

"_Foil.. Like... like baked potatoes, James. You wrap baked potatoes- wait, you wrap normal potatoes in foil, an' then you puttem in the oven and they come out baked potatoes. If you foil this problem, it'll come out a baked potato. Try it, James."_

"_But __**Logan**__, I __**hate **__baked potatoes..."_

"_But it's food..."_

"_Horrible, horrible devil food. From Hell."_

"_First, outside, inside, last... potato."_

"_Lies."_

"_I swear to god."_

"_Looogaaan..."_

"_C'mooon, James..."_

"_Logano... Logierro... Logogogadget sleep..."_

"_Wh... what?"_

"'_S not workiiing..."_

"_Whaddoya want..."_

"_Logarza... Logarific... Logamburguesas..."_

"'_M not a hamburger..."_

"_L... L-Loganzezizzle. Make me a hamburger."_

"_...Loganzezizzle?"_

"_Make me a hamburger."_

"_Poof, you're a hamburger."_

"_Wha... You liar."_

"_Mhmm."_

At three thirty James was almost positive he heard singing, but when he asked Logan if he heard it too, it was gone. It scared him. Around three thirty-seven he was sure he was delirious. It made him laugh, which made Logan laugh, too. To James, everything was funny. He decided since they were both in such good moods, this would be the _opportune_ time to spill his secret.

"_Logan..."_

"_Mm?"_

"_I hafta tell you something... 'mportant."_

"_Mm?"_

"'_S so... so super 'mportant."_

"_Whatsit. Gotta get back to stujing."_

"'_S jus'... 'S a secret."_

"_A secret?"_

"_Mhm, a super secret."_

"_Whatsit?"_

"_Aha, Logan, it is __**such**__ a secret..."_

"_Tell me."_

"'_S a real good secret, too."_

"_I wanna know."_

"_You sure?"_

"_So much."_

"_Positive?"_

"_I wanna knooow..."_

"_Okay."_

"_What?"_

"_I real... really, I really love yyyellow. Nh- 'S my favorite color."_

"_Oh."_

What was he even doing? What was he thinking? He couldn't just _tell_ Logan- that was thrice blasphemy! He was about to start laughing all over again when his breath caught in his throat and he got a good, long look at Logan. He was... wow. James wanted to reach out to touch him so badly, to stroke his hair smoothly, to hug him close and call him his, to kiss the side of his neck lovingly without the scrutinizing, condemning label of "gay." He wanted to be accepted, but he didn't care about everyone else- just Logan.

James was mad at Logan. Well, not really mad, but more like resentful; he didn't want Logan just sitting there, oblivious, with James right there knowing all he wanted was the other boy's attention and love, but the extent of Logan's amazing, wide-spread knowledge was that they were best friends, and nothing more than that. It was ironic, and it finally gave James the chance to not be the stupid one for once. Logan was the stupid one. Logan was being stupid. Everything was combining at that moment- Logan making him stay up late, Logan foiling all his plans, Logan dumping cold water all over him, Logan being so stupid when he was supposed to be a genius, and lastly, of course, James' desperation to go. To. Sleep.

He told Logan that his jacket wasn't warm enough and asked him to go get a new one out of the closet. Logan told him to come with him (so that he wouldn't run away while he wasn't looking). James got up and followed Logan over to the closet. Logan leaned in, searching for a nice, thick jacket for his friend. James acted then.

James locked Logan in the closet.

Grinning proudly, he fell back into his bed and closed his eyes victoriously, deaf to Logan's indignant cries.

"_James! James, this isn't funny!"_

The doorknob rattled frantically but remained stationary.

"_James, I'm serious, let me out! You're gonna fail the exam!"_

"_Mmm... I'll be fine... Sleep."_

"_No, I- It's really cold, James, what if I catch cold?"_

"_Plenty o' jackets in there, use 'em."_

"_James!"_

James didn't answer, instead vaguely listening to the vibrating doorknob as he slipped away, still grinning to himself. Suddenly, though, a new sound made it to his ears, and he couldn't place it exactly, but with Logan's next words, he identified it as harsh, heavy breathing.

"_J-James, I can't- Let me out, __**please**__- I'm claustrophobic!"_

_Claustrophobic._

James was up and unlocking the door in one second flat, wrenching it open as soon as possible, all fatigue disappeared in the place of adrenaline rush and panic. He saw Logan on the floor and pulled him up and out, heart in his throat, but- The wheezing turned to laughing, and- Logan was laughing. James didn't get it at first. But then he did.

His eyes turned hard and hurt and he turned away, making his way to the bed, letting Logan go. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hunching over and holding his face in his hands, letting out a long, slow breath. Logan's laughter calmed.

"_James? It was a joke, I didn't mean-"_

"_I know."_

He was stupid, how could he think Logan was the stupid one? He fell for it, he didn't see. That was why he needed help in math, that was why Logan had been able to trick him, because he was too dense to see past the act. It was because it was so late that his emotions were so tumultuous right then, but the knowledge of the fact didn't stop the tears from pricking at James' eyes. He breathed deeply in and out, trying to stop them before Logan could see them and in turn make fun of him for being so...

"_James, are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't-"_

"_I just want to go to sleep."_

His voice shook and he tried to steady it, keep his words from choking out. Logan laid out a short silence of hesitance before sighing and agreeing in a small voice. James hoped he didn't hear him cry himself to sleep.

They got four hours of sleep that night, barely managing to make it to school by eight, just in time for the late bell to ring. For some reason, James wasn't even tired. He was fatigued, yes, but he wasn't drop dead ready to melt tired. Fourth period he took the test, and he actually thought he did pretty well, and went through the rest of the school day just fine. It hit him when he got home- _hard_- and he woke up at nine fifteen at night. He slept unevenly, cursing Logan for his crazy Torture Study Session all the while, and the next day, _that_ was when he suffered. Sleep was insane. Apparently Logan knew the toll would be taken the day after, but he didn't tell James because he wanted him to focus on the test instead of worrying about the next day's events. James fell asleep in three of his classes, got home, and slept all afternoon again. As much as he hated Logan during that time, though, it payed off because on Friday when they got their tests passed back, his had a B plus scrawled across the top. How he had absorbed anything from that night, he had no idea, but deep down past all the resentment and exhaustion, James was ecstatic. It almost didn't even matter that it took a whole week to get himself back to a normal sleeping schedule. The fact that Logan had to endure the same thing may have helped.

The good grade made all of his friends proud of him, but the only one he really payed attention to was Logan. He adored every single drop of praise Logan poured thickly over him, like honey, and it just tasted so sweet. He couldn't stop smiling, and the one-armed congratulatory "man hug" he gave him made him positively glow.

However, like all good things, it had to come to an end, and after a while the good grade was forgotten. How long had James expected that to last, though, really? It wasn't like they'd be complimenting him for the rest of his life. He guessed his imagination had just started to run away with him.

So James continued to try gaining Logan's attention in countless other ways. He quickly found that the insane things he did with Carlos were the most efficient, as each seemed to be more dangerous than the last and therefore had Logan there more and more. And usually, things worked out. James was happy because Logan was there, Carlos was happy because he got an adrenaline rush, and Logan was happy because... well James didn't know. He just knew that there was a smile on Logan's face, and that in turn brought a smile to James'.

One time, one of the Crazy Stunts With Carlos got out of hand.

"_Dude, we always do stuff __**together**__."_

"_I know... But I wanna try it first this time. I wanna make sure it's safe so that if it's not you won't have to get hurt."_

"_Oh. James, you're the best friend ever."_

"_I know."_

They'd gotten bright red yarn (for courage, as Carlos claimed) and big square blankets and put them all together, fashioning beautiful homemade parachutes to cushion their falls after they jumped from the roof of James' two-story house. His parents weren't home, of course. James had also called Logan to come over so he could see him perform the stunt perfectly, and then James would have _plenty_ of his attention. He would be the star of the show. No one else. Now they were just waiting for Logan. Once Carlos had caught on to James' plan, James had to come up with another reason to convince him, saying that he wanted to be "First the Worst" so that Carlos wouldn't have to be. Carlos had much preferred the title of "Second the Best."

Logan arrived, told them they were being idiots, and ordered them to get down. James didn't hear the note of panic in his voice. He was listening to the roar of anticipatory praise and applause Logan would be giving him when it all played out perfectly, when he floated gracefully to the ground and Logan could give him nothing but admiration and awe.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew it wouldn't work.

The _crunch_ and explosion of raw _pain_ in his leg proved it a reality.

It was like electricity zipping up and down both his leg and whole body, and it was only his leg, but just everything was on fire and it hurt like nothing had ever hurt in his entire life- _combined._ He drew the limb in, clutching it tightly, and he cried out as his foot dragged across the lawn towards him, at the wrong angle. He felt himself shivering, and he was sure that he was going to die. There was a horrifying lump encompassing his whole knee as he ran his palm over it, and he knew it wasn't supposed to be there. He also knew he wasn't supposed to touch it, because it just _hurt._

"_James- James, __**stop**__, you're just making it worse– don't put any weight on it- jesus, what did I __**tell **__you- Okay, can you straighten out your leg?"_

James only whimpered and realized he was crying. He tried to reach up to wipe his tears away, but without the extra support his leg sagged and his foot bent even more at the wrong angle. He cried out again, and then there were hands reaching out to steady him. Holding his leg gingerly, with delicate fingers placed just barely lightly around him.

"_Okay, I'm gonna try to straighten out your leg. If it hurts too much, tell me to stop."_

James nodded and braced himself. It wasn't enough. Logan lifted his leg, James' foot dangled, and he just about screamed.

"_S-stop! Logan, stop, it hurts! D-don't move it, put it back, oh god, Logan, make it stop!"_

"_Okay, okay, calm down. Carlos, if you think you're jumping off that roof too you've got another thing coming. Go back inside and call- James, is your mom or dad close by?"_

James shook his head and whimpered again.

"_Th-they're in- ahhn, they're far, business, just- please!"_

"_It's okay. Just breathe. Can you do that for me? Carlos, just go inside and call my mom."_

James was panting heavily, but at Logan's words he tried desperately to calm down. It was an impossible task, but as his recently developed philosophy stated, it was anything for Logan. And to his surprise, if he really concentrated, he could actually start to feel his jolty breathing pattern steady. He was almost able to trade some of his focus on the pain to focus on breathing.

Until that thought passed.

He whimpered as a fresh wave of pain came throbbing through him. Logan was running his fingers lightly over James' leg, up and down, searching for- something. James stared down at him and tried to stifle his sniffles. He was panting again. He attempted once more to slow down. Logan's fingers ran over the abnormal lump on his knee. James cried out harshly and immediately Logan retracted his hand, recoiling as if stung. He pleaded over and over for Logan to get rid of the pain, he was going to be a doctor, wasn't this his job?

But he didn't say that.

"_Your ankle is broken and your tibia is crushed into your knee."_

Somehow knowing what exactly had happened didn't do anything to alleviate the pain. James choked as he tried to hold in a sob. He didn't even _know_ what a tibia was. Was that some sort of cat breed? Why would James have a cat in his leg? Was Logan losing it too? Or was James just going insane from the pain? He whimpered.

"_L-Logan."_

"_Shh, I gotcha."_

There were pounding footsteps approaching that somehow added to the pain. He took deep, deep breaths that shattered him yet helped at the same time. They were shuddery and jerky, but they were what Logan had told him to do. He vaguely heard Carlos rattling off to Logan that the latter's mom would be there in five minutes.

Those five minutes might have been James' favorite five minutes in which he was in pain ever.

The whole time Logan held him, comforted him, told him that it was going to be okay and that he didn't need to worry for much longer, that it would be gone in just a little while. And then James realized he had all of Logan's attention, and not one speck of it was focused on anything or anyone else.

It was so twisted, especially in those moments of such intense pain shooting up through him, but he knew it was true; James was happy.

When they got to the emergency room and he was all wrapped up in a cast (after an absolutely excruciating bone-setting), James made sure that Logan was the first to sign. He drew a heart next to his name. James didn't even tell him that was such a girl thing to do. He didn't want to admit the small sort of happiness it gave him, because really, it was just a little heart. Besides, there was so much else on his mind bothering him right then.

He was so _stupid._

To think that this, any of it would work. Logan was the smart one, Logan _knew_ this would happen. Logan foresaw it and tried to prevent it, but had James listened? No. He had tried to go on with his stupid, stupid plan, tried to show Logan how great he was, how awesome he was. And he had been so, _so _wrong. Logan was so much better than him. Logan knew everything, and James was just stupid.

Maybe this was why so many others were able to steal Logan's attention away from him.

It was then that James knew, he couldn't win Logan over with his personality. No one wanted to be around someone that undeniably stupid. That was why studying wasn't getting them anywhere. He had to gain Logan's undivided attention some other way.

He changed.

He finally saw himself for the monster he was- he was hideous, disgusting, horrible to look at. He was _fat_. When he weighed himself, he found the number one hundred sixty-seven staring condemningly back up at him. Angry, revolted tears sped down his cheeks, which he now saw as pudgy and blotchy. His eyes were squished into his face and his body pushed his arms out so they couldn't just hang by his sides. When he stood up straight and tilted his head down to look at the ground, he couldn't see his feet over the gross bulge of his belly, not even his toes. None of his clothes fit right, hugging him in all the wrong places, and when he went to wipe his tears from his face, he found that even his fingers were pudgy. The more he stared at himself in the mirror, the more he couldn't stand himself.

_This was why Logan couldn't love him._ Who would want to love such a hideous creature as him?

The thought brought both sorrow and happiness. He despised himself for being so sickening, for torturing others with his unattractive (what an understatement) appearance, but he was happy, because now he had the key to winning Logan's heart- he _knew_ what to do. Once he disposed of all his excess weight, he would be acceptable to look at, and then maybe Logan would _like_ him. The prospect sent anticipation sweeping through his veins, because it was just so- simple. He was determined. Now the only thing that stood between him and ultimate happiness was himself- and he knew just how to fix everything.

It was hard, at first- he had to completely change everything around: his whole diet, his daily schedule, just everything. His determination needed to be at its strongest, along with his motivation- but every time he looked at Logan, well, that was really all the motivation he needed. However, it was probably the hardest thing he had ever tried, and just three weeks into it he felt his resolve weakening. Before he could even start thinking about fully giving up, though, something happened that changed everything.

The day was bright yet chill, something not uncommon in Minnesota. It tended to be misleading, but James had gotten used to it, so it didn't really matter. Lacrosse couldn't last forever, so James and Logan now found themselves in baseball- on opposing teams. That day they were playing each other, but James wasn't paying attention to Logan sitting on the end of the bench in his team's dugout to avoid being forced to bat, and in his mind, that would have been the first sign that something was wrong, if it weren't for his stomach.

He didn't know what to pin it on, but the pizza-eating contest he'd had with Carlos earlier at lunch might just have been the cause. Whether that was true or not, James just knew that his stomach felt like it was eating itself alive and he didn't have a say in it. It wasn't going away, either; in fact, it was getting worse. James had to stop himself from hugging his stomach as a thick throb of pain washed through him, barely managing to conceal his groan. He tried to keep his breathing steady, because if anyone noticed he was breathing too harshly for just standing there in the outfield, they might start to ask questions. James didn't know why, but he was sure that would be a bad thing. He probably should have been asking someone for help, because he certainly didn't want to be standing there enduring it all like some sort of knight in shining armor.

He most certainly did _not _feel like a knight in shining armor.

In fact, he knew he wasn't a knight in shining armor, because at that moment there was a splitting _whack_ as one of the batters smacked the ball hard and low. James wasn't paying attention until it drove straight into his stomach, knocking him breathless, doubling him over, winding him completely and forcing the most painful coughs through his trachea and out so wide they burned his lips.

"_Oh my god, James, are you okay?"_

"_Wait, did that seriously hurt?"_

"_I'm so sorry!"_

They were all just meaningless, wordless yells to him, because he couldn't hear a thing over the sweltering pain in his stomach. It was churning, boiling, ripping at his skin, burning through the walls of his stomach with white hot heat and- oh god-

He was coughing so, so hard, and he couldn't breathe. He fell to his knees with a broken up groan, eyes screwed shut in pain, hands scrabbling to keep his stomach in check and begging it not to burn to ashes like it felt it would any second, he was doubled over almost completely, facing the ground in front of him, and his throat was so thick that he couldn't even breathe, just gasp out harsh, endless coughing. Then everything pulled back forcefully and he retched violently, letting out the most horrible, strained, wheezing gasps he'd ever heard as he coughed through being sick. His head was feeling dark and blurry and he vaguely heard screaming, cursing, and yelling, but all he could concentrate on was his own horror and absolute, stifling panic. He was throwing up, and it wasn't stopping, and he was still coughing, and he _couldn't breathe._

He was going to die.

Right there, right at that baseball field, he was going to die. He was so sure of that fact that he definitely wasn't expecting it when there were strong, firm hands on his shoulders, straightening him up and then disappearing around to his back to hit hard. Something flew out of his mouth, something solid that tasted like bile, and suddenly, he could breathe. The air rushed down to his lungs, and he was able to bask in the relief for about two seconds when he was coughing and throwing up again, but- it wasn't throwing up, he realized as his head cleared. It resembled getting sick, but there wasn't enough fluid for that. It was chunks of-something, and they hurt as they flew up his throat and out his mouth, and his eyes were open now but still blurry. He could make out the shapes on the ground, though, and oh god- why were they red?

He realized he'd been coughing up blood with whatever else was there. Oh no- he'd read about this in class, he really _was_ going to die! It was something called- tumorlosis. Tuberlo- tuberculosis, that was it- it was where you coughed up blood and died and it was happening to him and he was going to die and he was too young to die and-

He stopped, long enough to identify Logan's voice telling someone to go do something or another- he wasn't sure, he couldn't hear clearly. The sharp pain stabbed his stomach again and he threw up again. He thought he heard the words "going" and "okay." Oh _god-_ he was _going_ to die, _okay?_

No, that was _not_ okay. If he'd been able to breathe more clearly, he'd probably have been hyperventilating in fast forward or something. That was what he felt like doing.

"_J-James, calm down, alright, you __**have**__ to calm down, you're not breathing right. It's okay, it's going to be okay."_

A hand was rubbing circles in his back as he tried to get everything out of his system, every second spent wishing both that this would be over and for that hand to never, ever stop. Then there were voices that weren't calm or soothing like that one had been, and then he was waking up in a white, beeping room.

The doctor told him that it wasn't anything incredibly serious like tuberculosis (apparently he'd been blubbering on and on about that), but it still wasn't something to take lightly. In short, his body didn't agree with his diet- those mysterious solid objects he'd been coughing up with the blood were half-digested chunks of cheese, which explained why they tasted like bile. But he couldn't eat cheese anymore, or at least very, very occasionally and sparingly. It did horrific things to his body. Logan held his hand and told him it was going to be okay, that he would get through this. And while James was sad about the loss of a few of his favorites such as pizza and cheese omelets, he was also excited and determined. He knew that his over-consumption of cheese was one of the main reasons he was so- fat, along with all the breads he ate, and the junk, and just- everything. But cheese was a big part of it. This was the perfect opportunity to give himself that push forward he so desperately needed.

And it worked.

James never knew he had the potential to look... like _this._ Sure, every time he looked in the mirror he still saw that same horrid face, but he'd been taking pictures every week, and when he looked at the ones from last month, yeah, he saw maybe a slight difference. Obviously it was a good difference, because his friends- they were _proud_ of him. They largely supported him every step of the way, promising that they would come to the gym with him, spot him, run laps with him, and Kendall even vowed to share a diet with him. James felt bad about that one and refused to let him, but he had these crazy friends who all decided to pitch in and participate after he'd said _no._ His friends' change in diet only lasted for about three weeks before Carlos caved when he saw the most gorgeous chili-cheese dog staring at him from one of the pictures advertising the monthly specials at the restaurant they'd all agreed on going to to celebrate almost two months of James' incredible moderation. James was really just convinced that they were all going insane from eating things strictly green. It was okay, though. Carlos seemed to be in _love_ with his chili-cheese dog, and who was James to get in the way of love? He'd just be a hypocrite.

Logan was the second to give in when Carlos began taunting him for days over being able to eat all the junk he wanted. Secretly James hoped Logan would stay strong, to continue to support him, but that was demolished the second Carlos challenged Logan to a burrito-eating contest. Naturally, Logan couldn't turn down a dare from Carlos; the two were just so competitive.

So it was left at Kendall and James. Well, that one was really broken by James; he asked Kendall how long he was planning on doing this hardcore support diet thing, and Kendall found that he didn't have an answer. James told him he'd endured it for a month and that was enough, and Kendall "reluctantly" agreed. At least he tried to make it look like he was putting up a fight. James knew he was just as desperate as Carlos had been, though.

So he endured the diet in solitude, pushing his way through every refusal to something he shouldn't have, to every offer thrown out to him to relax when he could have been working out or running laps. It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he did slip up a few times, but it was nothing major, and his friends, despite their inability to eat the same things he did, still accompanied him to the gym.

When he hit the three month mark, a girl asked him out. It astounded James, because never in his life had that happened to him, and never had he expected it to. She was pretty, too. He was so caught off guard that he found himself agreeing to go with this girl. He really had no idea what he was doing, and really only just realized what was happening when she was walking away with her hips swaying like they held the world within their confines. Well, they must have, because when he told his friends, still sort of in a daze, they all three flipped.

"_Really? Oh my god, who, what's her name?"_

"_Alyssa."_

"_Oh, dude, __**Alyssa**__? She's friggin' sexy!"_

"_Well it's not much of a surprise- James is pretty __**fine **__himself."_

Kendall was the one to say that one, and it made James' face heat up- he was _not_ "fine." Before he could argue, though, Logan, of all people, was agreeing.

"_Yeah, seriously- James, you've changed a __**lot**__ through the past three months."_

"_R-really?"_

"_Totally!"_

"_Yeah, James, soon girls will be throwing themselves at you left and right- you're gonna need to start wearing your hockey helmet everywhere you go."_

"_Sure, if it would cover my face."_

"_Don't talk like that. You're really becoming something..."_

"_Beautiful."_

Kendall had supplied that one, but James couldn't help but wish it had been Logan instead. Regardless, he absolutely couldn't let the speaker get away with a lie so ridiculous as that.

"_Kendall..."_

"_It's true, James, he's not lying! Seriously- have you checked yourself in a mirror lately? Just ask like half the girls at this school- no, not even that many! You could ask the first five you see and six will think you're hot."_

"_Six?"_

"_Yep."_

"_Well thanks, Carlos."_

"_You're welcome- wait, here- I have a mirror right here, just- hang on- really, you'll see, you're- almost- here, look!"_

The mirror Carlos had was a little compact just like all the ones the girls had around school, and therefore confused James profusely. When he asked about it, though, Carlos merely stated that it was for pranks- angling it to shine light in other people's eyes could be fun. He didn't say where he got it, though that part was quickly forgotten by James when he studied himself in the reflective surface of the fold-up circle. It must've been a magic mirror, because the person staring back at him was most definitely _not _James Diamond. It was- someone else completely. Sure, this person had the same eyes, with the brown pools speckled with green as if someone had thrown up in them, as he'd always seen it, but these ones were shining and attractive instead of glazed and squished, like James knew his were. Sure, this person had the same hair, albeit much more shiny and less matted, and the same high cheekbones (but James' were hidden beneath layers on layers of fat), and the same mouth and jaw and neck and everything, but it just... wasn't him. This person was too... pretty to be him. James Diamond was a mess- slobbish and fat and gross. The person staring back at him through the mirror was none of those things, but then- if he looked _closely, _very closely, he could see traces of that James Diamond within it. Every line, every plane, it was- the same person.

It was him.

He felt so, so stupid, but upon that realization he felt stinging tears creeping into his eyes, and though he tried to blink them away, they wouldn't leave him for anything. Quickly he handed the mirror back to Carlos for fear of dropping it and breaking it. He felt a tear leak over and down his cheek, the other side following suit, and now he was out in the open. His breath was broken up the way it probably shouldn't have been but he couldn't for the life of him stop any of it. It only got worse when he felt arms folding around him, pulling him into this sort of warmth that he'd always wanted to be a part of but never thought he would. He realized it was Kendall by the height of his shoulder when he buried his face into it and shut his eyes tight.

"_James, what's the matter? You don't have to cry, we're all so proud of you."_

"_I know."_

It came out muffled, but he made no attempt to make himself clearer, and it seemed that Kendall appeared to understand anyway, by the way his arms tightened around him. James returned the gesture and couldn't stop crying. He had no idea why he was crying, because the warmth inside him was just such an incredible, happy feeling. It strengthened when two more pairs of arms found their ways around him, and the tears spilled more profusely. No one pulled away until James was ready, and when he was, all he could say was "thank you" and "I'm sorry."

He went on the date with Alyssa, despite his every instinct telling him not to. He didn't like her, he didn't want to be her boyfriend, and he most definitely didn't want to _kiss_ her, contrary to the belief of both Kendall and Carlos. They took it upon themselves to constantly bother James about that, making stupid kissy faces at him, trying (and maybe succeeding) to turn his face red. And they thought it was funny.

Well, the date went- fine. Generally. It was awkward at first, but James found things to talk to her about and ended up having a really great time. Not that he wanted her to be his girlfriend or anything, still. He didn't like her that way. She was pretty and all, but he just didn't... like her. Obviously she was disappointed when he didn't kiss her at the end of their night together, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Thoughts of Logan, of his smile, his eyes, made him feel guilty, so he didn't kiss her.

There wasn't a second date. However, there were many more others after that, as girls seemed to be considering him attractive now. And he could see it, too. He found that he now had the courage to do more than just glance at mirrors, maybe even do a little bit of staring. He felt a lot better about his appearance than he had before, and confidence bloomed within him. But there was one problem: with so many girls always talking to him, he was losing Logan's attention.

Constantly Logan would be going to Kendall for help, for company, for- everything. It was killing James, and he didn't want to stand by and watch any longer. He'd kept Logan's eyes on him in so many ways before, but it simply seemed like lately it was going to take more than just the old routines. James began to get very imaginative with his ways in getting Logan to notice him. As he got asked out on more and more dates, he learned to use them to his advantage.

He became more flashy, more outwardly narcissistic. Did he really like himself that much? Not at first, but he learned to. He got used to showing himself off, prettying himself up daily and finding more and more different ways to emphasize his stronger physical points, until he was something so much more than what he had been- it was like he had gone through a complete transformation, a metamorphosis. He wasn't exactly sure the outcome was something necessarily beautiful compared to before, because he couldn't tell how completely he had changed. All he knew was that for the first time ever he was actually comfortable in his own skin and that he now had a definite "swagger" to his personality- with an attitude to match. And his whole life centered around Logan.

Logan was the reason for his change, it was all for Logan. Logan, Logan, Logan.

And yet he never saw James.

It killed him, every day seeing Logan talking to someone else, to Kendall, to Carlos, over him. Sometimes he was irrational, and others he just hurt. He was scared to death when Logan was asked on a date, felt almost selfishly relieved when he came back saying that they didn't click. He felt bad for her because she was pretty and totally Logan's type, but for some reason Logan just didn't see it.

Like he didn't see James.

James tried everything. Really, he did. He didn't think he'd put so much effort or dedication to anything in his life, nor could have anyone else in the world. It was what he thought about day and night, what motivated him to keep it up, keep going. Logan's face was the first ray of sunshine in every day. If he was feeling a little under the weather, a simple grin from Logan was the perfect remedy.

He was hopelessly in love.

And then they made the move to Hollywood. It was so hard for James at the time, because Logan was becoming increasingly involved in his studies to become a doctor and didn't seem to have time for anyone anymore. It was the most difficult, painful decision he'd ever had to make, but James decided that he'd spent much, much too long pining over someone who was never, ever going to love him back. If Logan was going off to med school the second highschool was over, which James had no doubt of considering Logan's incredible intellect, James was going to have to find something to occupy himself; otherwise, he was going to be nothing. The solution? Music.

Singing became his drive. Logan was a pestering thought that was pushed to the back of his mind where it poked and prodded dangerously at his attention span. But he forced himself to ignore it, to focus completely and utterly on singing, on preforming, on _becoming famous._ And it wasn't something he'd just made up overnight; it was his dream. Since the beginning he'd loved singing, even though he'd never really started to show it until later, in highschool, after his transformation. After he'd decided that he needed to associate himself with something, anything other than LoganLoganLogan. He was doing everything he could to get noticed, maybe even picked up, despite the fact that they were deep in the confines of Nowhere, Minnesota. There was a chance. There was always a chance. _Just not with Logan._

James refused to admit that his determination to shine was subconsciously just another way to try to get Logan's attention.

When Gustavo Rocque came to Minnesota, James' stomach was instantly filled to the brim with butterflies. Swirling, spiraling, back-flipping butterflies. This was his chance. To shine, to get noticed. Everyone told him he was a good singer, and he knew it. He knew it better than anyone else and he knew that if he preformed for this record producer, he had a good chance of being picked up and taken away from Logan forever- well, realistically it wouldn't be forever, but to someone like James- yeah, it would be forever. He wasn't even worried about being rejected, only being separated from Logan. Was this what he wanted, really? Was this really the best thing? Yes, this was what he'd been fighting for the whole time, but now that it was real, was this what he really wanted? He had no idea.

His friends supported him all the way through, but suddenly he wasn't so sure at all. Every time he saw Logan's face, the encouragement, the _smiles,_ he felt his knees go weak and his resolve dissolve. He couldn't leave that behind, he- He procrastinated as much as he could, his audition. He still had time, he could still make the decision.

Then Logan came back from his audition, and the look on his face, the traumatized, injured, dejected look- that was when James made his decision. No, he was _not_ going with that- _monster._ No way, not after what he'd done to Logan. He was going to march right in there, make the audition, and pointedly refuse the offer with as much of his acquired swagger and attitude he could muster.

Right after Carlos. He had to make sure Logan was okay. And maybe calm himself down a little. Just so that he wouldn't, like, _kill_ the guy or anything. Logan wouldn't like it.

When Carlos got back, obviously pleased with his performance, James tried to get Kendall in ahead of him, for some reason unknown to him. But Kendall forced him to go, giving him some crazy pep talk about- oh, Kendall thought he was just being nervous. Well, James was going to do it. Gustavo Rocque was going down. The doors clicked to a shut behind him. He made his way to center stage. He sang.

And bombed.

Gustavo's rejection took everything he had out of him, left him completely and utterly winded. Had he been expecting that? _No._ In fact, it was just enough. Being told by a famous record producer and songwriter- who had countless platinum records, probably hanging on the walls of his seven story mansion in Millionaire, California- that he had _no talent_, was just enough to bring even a little of his old self back. His insecure self, his dejected self.

He couldn't do it.

"_James, he's just one person. He's hotheaded and arrogant- he didn't know what he was talking about, your singing is incredible."_

Just one person. What a joke. Gustavo Rocque was a famous record producer, had written tons of hits, and he just plain and simple _knew_ good music. If he said James had _no talent,_ then James had _no talent._

Then Gustavo added insult to injury and, like rubbing salt into his bleeding wound, picked Kendall over him.

_Kendall,_ who hadn't even auditioned for real; _Kendall,_ who hadn't ever even considered considering singing as a career; _Kendall,_ who treated the whole thing like a joke, who didn't even think he could sing when he so obviously could, who didn't even _care_.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to leave Logan behind now. No, now he could just wait the two years until Logan would be the one leaving him.

When Kendall proposed his stupid insane genius plan to Gustavo, he was basically, to put it in short, saving James' life. It was so, so perfect; all four of them going to Hollywood together, singing as a group? James would be living his dream, and more importantly, he wouldn't be leaving Logan behind. That was everything that mattered to him, so he fell in love with Kendall for a night. The only downside to the whole affair was that in the process of everything working out for James, Logan's dream would be left behind. And it was definitely selfish, yes, but James wasn't too extremely sad about this because it also meant that Logan wouldn't be leaving him any time soon.

He was a horrible person. But he was in love.

He tried so, so hard. He did everything he could; he sang as hard as he could, he found ways to make himself even prettier, he helped Logan in any way he could, he tried to be around him, but it never seemed to work. He had thought that since they were all together in L.A. now, he actually had a chance at getting Logan again, something he'd thought he'd had to give up. As time went on, though, his hopes were slowly but surely dwindling, because the longer they spent in Hollywood, the more Kendall, Carlos, and Logan were looking for girls. The more James had to pretend to look for girls. To flirt with girls to catch Logan's attention. To see him staring off somewhere else, preoccupied with something else.

He'd hoped for so long that Logan wouldn't return Camille's feelings, that he would just continue to ignore her, let her slink off to some corner of self-pity and failure, but it never happened. When Logan started dating Camille, reality's fist struck the side of his head hard and held him pinned to the ground.

Logan was never, _never_ going to love him. He was stupid, foolish, believing for even a second that he might have ever had some sort of chance. Logan wasn't like him, and he never would be. He loved Camille now, that horrible, horrible creature he couldn't stand the sight of, because every time he saw her he could only think of crushing defeat and despair. She had won, and he had never even had a chance. He had tried so, so, _so_ hard, for an entirety of almost _three years_, almost from the second he'd met Logan, and it had all been for nothing. He hadn't just failed, but wasted his time. There was never any point to anything he ever did, and yet he had put everything he had into it.

No words could ever even try to begin to describe what he felt the moment it crushed him into the dusty earth. Logan was never going to love him.

_Logan is never going to love him._

And still, he thinks he could have done something, tried harder, done more. That he could have done it, that Logan could be in his arms right now. That he failed.

Now he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the door shut to keep away unwanted onlookers. He looks the same as always, except his eyes. They look dead to him. They look like they couldn't catch the light in them even if they tried and there is no life in them. Only brooding despair, confined agony, harbored devastation. He sees his face as a whole, not as eyes and a nose, mouth, high cheekbones, chin, framed by his hair. He sees a ragged plane of- skin. Substance. He stares hard at himself in the mirror, stares at the months and months and years, even, of hard work and motivation and support. He stares past all that, because it doesn't even matter. Because now, when he looks in the mirror, when he sees pictures, posters of his face, all he sees is failure.

Hatred floods his whole being and he can't contain it. Moisture springs to his eyes. His face- his _failure_- contorts into something hideous and a great shudder racks his whole frame. He's shaking now. His mouth flashes open for a second, sucking in a brief gasp of air. It repeats and lets one out. A tear slips out and over his cheek, rolling down slowly. He can't look at his face anymore. He hates it. He can't let it go. His fingers slip into his jeans pocket, curling around the pocketknife he brought with him. He brings his hand back up and finally diverts his attention from the mirror, from his failure. He examines the folded knife, turns it over a few times. His thumb strokes the smooth wooden surface once, and then he flips it open. The blade is strong, smooth, and captures the light just right. It's perfect. He contemplates its beauty for another moment, shaking.

He raises the blade to eye level, and he stares at his reflection again, disgusted. He failed. Everything he did, a waste. He can't stand to watch himself anymore. Just as his other eye spills its tear, he brings the knife swiftly down against his cheek, slicing cleanly and sharply into the skin.

A gasp jumps up his throat at the sting but as he watches the thin line of red appear, the smallest satisfaction forms and he has to do it again. He shuts his eyes tight and slashes at himself again, catching his nose. A small cry escapes him, but he does it again, and again and again. Cold air hits his face and he knows blood is starting to run, but he doesn't care. It's good. Good. He has to do this. He can't stop until it's done. His whole body is shaking, he's gasping repeatedly. The cuts on his face sting as the salt water mixes within them. Still, he cuts again, and again, violently, hatefully, eyes slanting open so he can see. His face is covered in blood, contorted in anguish, and deep inside his stomach something settles, and it feels good. This is good. He's a failure. He deserves this. He has to do this. He's sobbing now.

The door is open. No one else is home, but the door is open, and he didn't open it. The knife is pried from his fingers. A hysteric voice reaches his ears. It asks what he's doing, why? He breathes harshly and heavily, and he's sobbing hard. Arms pull him in and he fights to get out, but they won't let him, and he's too weak to run away anyway. So he sobs defeat into the person who stopped him, who won't let him.

"Why won't he love me?" he cries. "I've done everything I can, I've done everything for him, and he won't even notice, why won't he notice? I love him, I'm in love with him! Why won't he love me?"

He's screaming. His throat hurts. It's sore. He lets out everything he's kept in for so, so long. He can barely breathe, he's crying so hard. The pain is deep, intense, the hardest thing he's ever felt in his life. He laments over Logan, Logan, _Logan, why won't you love me?_

A towel is being dabbed over his face, soaking up the blood. It's soft and soothes the sting, but that only makes him cry harder because he failed, he let himself fail, and he has to be punished. A soothing voice tells him that he's okay and that he doesn't have to be punished. It tells him no, and all he can do is cry. He clutches at the towel and buries his face into it, crying. The arms never release their hold on him even for a second, but now he thinks of them as comfort instead of restraint. He willingly lets them pull him in.

He feels as if he's waking up from some long, torturous dream when he finally comes back to himself. He's stopped crying and his cuts aren't bleeding anymore. His whole face stings and aches as if badly bruised. Arms enfold him in warmth, yet his body is plagued with uncontrolled tremors like electrical shocks. His breath is gasping and short.

He tells Kendall everything.

He tells him that he met Logan first, he tells him that he got hurt for Logan once. He tells him that he hates it when anyone steals Logan's attention away from him. He tells him how he tried so, so hard. He tells him that every one of the changes he went through were for Logan. He tells him that he's in love with Logan. He tells him that Logan will never love him back, that he failed. He's crying again. Kendall is crying, too. But Kendall is hugging him close and somehow that makes it just the slightest bit better. He can't stop crying again, but this time he can breathe. Everything he has seeps out of him through those tears, and so he lays empty against Kendall. Shuddering. Crying.

What Kendall hears breaks his heart. When he came home and heard the sobbing, he knew it was James because James was the only other one home. He was scared then, but nothing could ever compare to what he felt when he opened the door. The image of James' face, mutilated and drenched in blood, will be forever imprinted to the backs of Kendall's eyelids, there for him to see every time he closes his eyes. Sheer terror almost froze him to the spot in that instant, yet somehow he still managed to run to James, wrench the pocketknife from his fingers, and throw it as hard as he could back out into the livingroom before holding onto James and collapsing to the floor with him. He was eventually able to get a towel off of the rack after he had collected himself and attempted to wipe the blood off of James' face, but the fragile, broken skin began to tear and he had to dab carefully from there on. James' sobbing was thick and terrifying; Kendall never, ever knew that James could even make sounds like that. He can feel nightmares building like headaches in the back of his skull, ready to spring forward to attack the second he falls asleep. He held onto James for almost two hours while he sobbed into him about failure, about love, about Logan. And then James told him everything he's been keeping bottled up for almost three years, without having told anyone else at all. Kendall feels like the worst friend in the world. James is so broken, so ruined, but that's only half of the reason Kendall's heart is broken.

The other half is Logan.

For almost three years now, Kendall has been in love.

Love for him hasn't been what everyone else says it is. It's not the best feeling in the world, it's not security and it's definitely not the utmost happiness. To Kendall, love is exactly the opposite. Love has hurt him in so many ways, he wouldn't know where to start if asked to describe it. Love is crying himself to sleep five out of seven nights in a week. It's cold emptiness rising from a place within that is impossible to close up. It's a gaping hole torn right through his middle. Love is watching and waiting for as long as he wants, but never, ever getting it. And love is getting stabbed in the heart after learning, finally, that after almost three years of longing, wanting, hurting, he can't have what he wants.

He's contemplated so many times in the past whether he should tell him, finally confess everything he has locked away in his soul, but always, always he said no to himself. That if he just waited it would come. Now is another one of those contemplating moments, but this time he can't just promise himself it'll come in the future, because here is the knowledge that it won't, right in front of him. He wonders if now is the moment when he finally lets it free, but James is much, much too broken for that. Kendall can't do that to him. Besides, what would it even be for? James is in love with Logan. James is in love with Logan Mitchell. Not Kendall. There's no point in saying anything now.

So Kendall keeps his lips sealed and his arms locked around James, silently crying to himself but letting James give him all he has, because really, now the only thing he can do is to redeem himself by forever being there for James. He'll do anything it takes. And even when it hurts him, even when he feels like he can't keep it up for another second, he'll hang on, because that's what friends are for.

"Shhh," he whispers to the shuddering boy at his side. "It's okay now. I got you. I'll never let you go. You're okay."

"It's so h-hard," he whimpers. Kendall hugs him close.

"I know," he responds regretfully. "It's okay. Just go to sleep James. Go to sleep."

James shivers and shuts his eyes, listening to Kendall's soothing tones grace his ears softly. He feels lips at his temple, and he shudders when he hears the quiet, comforting words.

Kendall sings to him in a broken voice. He sings a lullaby, one that he used to sing to Katie what seems like a lifetime ago. The words are meant to soothe, to console, to let someone know that maybe times are hard now, but soon, eventually, things will be okay. And Kendall doesn't know if he believes the words for himself, but James is calming down and soon gently falls to sleep. He watches his chest slowly rise and fall, almost peaceful, and wonders if he dreams or what he dreams of. Does he dream of beauty, of paradise? Does he dream of a happiness indefinable? Does he then wake up to see that nothing has changed, that none of that small sliver of unbridled happiness was genuine?

Kendall silently shifts so he can pull James closer under his protective embrace, and like so many nights before, he falls asleep with tears gracing his cheeks.

* * *

_I had to put some Kames in there. I had to. This is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I dearly thank EVERYONE who read the whole thing, and I am totally irrevocably Stephanie Meyers vampire blah blah IN LOVE with anyone who reads the whole thing AND reviews. I love you all so much. BIG thanks to Miss Fenway, my.. what Rainbow Love Twin? I think so. SHE HAS HELPED ME SO MUCH WITH THIS. I would have been stuck for SO much longer if it weren't for her. Everyone give her some love. _

_Alex if you didn't love this my life is over. JK. I LOVE YOU FOREVER. HUGS._

_Oh right and I suppose James probably looks somewhat like this now: ht tp:/lyzius. deviantart. com/art/Bad-Habit-192349891 Don't worry, she's a makeup artist lol. SHE'S NOT DEMENTED OR ANYTHING, BUT I LOVE HER WORK. _

_There is so much more I probably have to say, but kittens are at stake. I love you all. -KISSES-_


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